


Afterglow

by scandalpants



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sex, F/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalpants/pseuds/scandalpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place right after the 'Wait, don't go' scene.  Important matters are addressed, including round two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterglow

That lovely, molten lead of satisfaction has infused Veronica's veins, making her limbs heavy. With a sigh she puts the last of her energy into throwing her leg over Logan's so she can better cuddle into his side. His hand traces lines up and down her back while hers does circles, outlining the hard, smooth planes of his chest and stomach.

With the snug way his shirts hug his arms, she could see he'd become stronger, more defined, but this… _damn._ Remembering the way he held her up so effortlessly against that pillar in the living room, then carried her in here to finish the job properly, gets her mind busy imagining the future possibilities. The future meaning hours from now, when she can move again.

"So, are we going to talk about it?" Logan's voice slips into her, the first words they've spoken since she kissed him.

"We just did." Avoidance, natch. But she doesn't want to talk about it, whatever 'it' is. She wants to bask. Enjoy the feel of his shoulder under her cheek, breathe in the elixir of air that's earth and spice and all Logan. Revel being in his arms again, every stray fantasy from the past nine years now a stunning reality.

"Veronica," his other hand raises to brush back her hair, and she feels a shiver go down her spine at the sound of her name from his lips. "I mean a conversation where we use our mouths—"

"Mmm, I like it when you tell me what you want," she cuts in, snuggling in closer and nipping his chest. She can feel her body waking up from its dream state, hungry again, and is able to move so she can lathe a path down to his stomach.

She's teasing, and he knows it, given the way his stomach is clenching as he chuckles. Doesn't stop the cock pressed under her breasts from twitching, though. "That's not what I meant, smartypants."

Veronica grins up at him. "Pretty sure my smartypants are folded on the chair over there. Along with my smartyskivs."

"Yeah, which brings me to question one." His hands work their way under her arms, hauling her up the length of his body so they're face-to-face. "You often walk around the house in a t-shirt and nothing else?"

The only light is a faint glow from the single lamp they left burning in the dining room. It's enough, however, to let her see the smile in his face, and the softness in his eyes as he stares up at her. The truth is that she heard him leaving and ran out to the living room only half-dressed.  Instead of telling him that, she grins wickedly at him, "The better to seduce you with."

His shirt is lying on the floor, leaving his neck and clavicle vulnerable. So weak and exposed like that - she can't resist nipping. Lightly of course, enough to jolt him but not mark him. His sharp intake of breath has her smiling against his skin.

He allows her this, and a few other liberties, before grasping her jaw and drawing her in for a deep, thorough kiss. One he ends by pulling away, and resting his forehead against hers. His breath washes over her neck in a way that's maddening.

Veronica draws up her knees so she's straddling him, and evidence of his rallying is very present underneath her. She wriggles a bit to get in just the right spot, and starts to undulate her hips. His groan tells her it's working, which is why she's surprised when he puts his hands on her waist and whispers for her to stop.

Veronica sits up and stares down at him, confused. "Why?"

"One reason, which is going to fly out of my head again if you keep doing that." Logan puts his hands behind his head and grimaces. "I hate to bring up his name, but what about—"

 _Oh._ "Logan, no. This isn't…I'm not…" She locks eyes with him, knowing he deserves to not only hear the truth, but read anything he can on her face. "We broke up. I mean, he broke up with me."

Scrutiny. She's testified before a jury, participated in mock trials, and was raised by Keith Mars, but nobody can analyze her like Logan. Her nakedness goes deeper than her skin, but it feels incredible to be seen again.

"Why?" His brow furrows, more questions queuing up behind this one.

She shrugs, feeling guilty only because it doesn't hurt. Piz cared about her, and he's probably spending the night riding the self-pity train while she's riding, well, Logan. "He said...," her voice trails off, thinking about what Piz really meant with his talk about loyalty and friendship, and why she stayed in Neptune. "He realized I never got over you."

It's not a declaration of love, not exactly, but that doesn't keep Logan's brow from clearing, or him pulling her down to continue their kiss. Veronica's hands fall down to his chest, reminding her there's a newly evident matter she wants to address before they can free fall into this.

"Logan?" Veronica whispers during a break for air.

"Hmmm?" he asks, the most he can verbalize given how busy his tongue is finding all those spots in her mouth that makes her spine go limp.

She presses her palm down on his forehead until his skull is nestled into the pillow. "Stop. You have some explaining of your own to do."

He waggles his eyebrows at her, their short hairs tickling the underside of her hand. "Not really. I think, given the position you're in, you know all my secrets by now." He does that thing that fascinated her when he first did it years ago - using whatever muscles he is blessed with down there to make his erection dance underneath her.

She snorts and presses down on him, stopping his penile antics. This is something that, now that she's thinking about it, is eating her up with curiosity. "All except one. So, tell me. Mere narcissism, or a rare case of selective alopecia areata?"

"Alo what?"

"The disease where you can't grow hair." She runs her fingers over his smooth chest and torso, ignoring his intake of breath when she brushes over his nipples. "And I say selective because," she rises enough to be able to the stroke area around his cock that's still decently forested. The move earns her another dance and a laugh from him. "You've still got thatch."

"Aww, your pillow talk is so sweet." His hands stroke up her legs and stomach, then knead her breasts.

"Hey, flyboy, that's not an answer."

Logan sits up enough to take the tip of her breast between his teeth, and pull. The way his mouth moves up to that certain spot on her throat is almost a deterrent…almost. However, Veronica remembers his techniques for distraction too well.

She narrows her eyes at him, cupping a hand around his cock for support while she slides up and down its length, making sure to brush the tip over her most sensitive spot. There's no reason they can't both benefit from this maneuver. Affecting her best German accent, she threatens, "Vee haf vays of making you talk."

It's not a secret that the different voices she can conjure are a major turn on for him. He once said there's was something unsettling but wildly erotic about plundering his girlfriend, but getting Isabella Rossellini or Penelope Cruz in his ear at the oddest moments.

Logan falls back onto the bed. His sharp intake of breath is a good sign, as is the hard grip he takes on her hips so he can grind up into her. "Do that again."

She does, a few times, enough to establish a satisfying rhythm that builds a nice, low pressure. The rest can wait, though, until she gets the information she wants. "Enough, Echolls. You vant more? Talk."

"I thought we were talking," he smirks, echoing her words from earlier.

She narrows her eyes at him and shifts a bit, lowering herself on and off of him so quickly his mouth drops open and his head falls back. "Fuck, Veronica."

"Okay, but only after I get what I want," she orders, dropping the accent.

Logan shakes his head and swallows, looking up at her with an expression she can only describe as glee. "You know we were warned about women like you in OCS."

She rakes her nails down his chest, delighting in the slight furrows left behind. And in the deep breath he takes in response, releasing it with a growled, "Fine."

Her other hand is still clutching him, and she lowers herself on him slowly, moving only enough to let him know she's going to be controlling this. "Talk."

He wets his lips, looking up at her, and rocks his hips just slightly to remind her that he's going along, but just because he wants to. He could take over in a second, were he inclined. "I – shit, I can't believe I'm admitting this. I waxed."

"Uh huh. But why?"

"Personal choice. Additional opinions neither solicited nor needed." His teasing expression is meant to remind her of when she'd said something similar years ago.

That conversation was actually a diatribe directed at Dick, after he made a particularly offensive remark regarding a girl he hooked up with. Logan won serious points when he said until Dick was willing to have hot wax or a sharp razor on his own balls, he didn't get to judge.

But…no. Doesn't jibe. Logan might have been fussy about his hairstyle at one time, but this was too Abercrombie model, even for him. She tightens the grip she still has at the base of his shaft, knowing he loves the pressure, and warns, "The truth, the whole truth, so help you god."

He rolls his eyes and moves slightly, a last-ditch attempt to sidetrack her. Veronica stops him with a warning look and pointed throat clearing. Finally he admits, so low she can barely hear it, "I lost a bet."

She rewards him with a slow rise and fall, rising again to let him leave her so she can resume sliding along his length. "Keep going."

"You, too," he coaxes, taking a deep breath to continue. "Sometimes when we're on the ship, we play cards. _Fuck."_

"Mmm hmmm." It's enough information to guess the rest, but making him focus on something else during this is wicked fun. _Up Down Up Out, damn yes, right there._

"The other guys know I'm _(gasp)_ um, rich so they won't play if we, um, betwithmoney." He grabs the pillow behind his head, and she knows it's to keep from grabbing her and taking over control. She feels heady with the power of it, as well as grateful since what she's doing is working _really_ well for her own needs.

"So instead of money?" The four words take immense control to utter, thick with the need coursing through her.

"Stunts," he all but grunts out, giving up on the pillow and using his hands to knead her backside instead. The self-control he's exhibiting shows how much man he's become. The boy Logan would be lifting and slamming up into her by now. "Pee off the deck, blow a kiss at the cook, wax-" his voice cuts off when a primal sound works its way out of her throat, "Ah, you're killing me."

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"It'll grow back?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now shut up."

Logan grins and moves to strategically place a thumb while she speeds her hips, maintaining their connection. Her hand wanders behind and down to cup his balls. The way they tighten in her palm tells her he's getting closer, so her finger presses in that place she knows will drive him crazy. Holds it there while all her focus moves to what he's doing with his hands, and the feel of him inside her.

Everything else falls away, other than the man between her thighs. Every sense and thought is filled with him; his scent, the words and sounds that fall from his lips, the much missed face and hard lines of his body, the taste of him still on her tongue, the flesh under her hands, and her mind that's still reeling in disbelief. _Logan, mine again, won't let go, Logan, Oh My God, Logan._

The climax rocks through her, but her hips don't stop moving, drawing it out and wanting to bring him there with her. His hands snake into her hair and pull her roughly down to him, clashing her mouth down onto his. The assault mirrors the one he's making far lower, his need bringing him into her in a way that's rough and gratifying.

The deep, guttural cry he makes is familiar, and so fucking _right,_ their coarse kiss ends with her laughter. The joy between them is tangible - Veronica imagines it as a color, bright and yellow. A sun or a star that warms parts of her that have been cold for years. She melts into him, acquiescing when he rolls her onto her side and tucks himself in behind her.

The hand he drapes across her waist, she pulls up to her chest. Veronica smiles when he cups her breast, pulls her even tighter against him, and lays a kiss on the nape of her neck. His sigh is heavy, fulfilled, as he settles in behind her.

"Veronica?"

"Mmm, hmm?" she asks, already drowsy.

"Thanks for coming back. You know, to Neptune. To me."

Veronica nestles herself into him, that much closer, and whispers, "Always," before sleep claims her.

* * *

She wakes the next morning, plans and strategies already forming in her head. It takes no small amount of grace to extricate herself from Logan's arms without waking him, but she knows if he's up before she's dressed they'll end up replaying the porn version of 'If You Give a Mouse a Cookie': An awake Logan would lead to a raucous good morning, which would take them to talks of a shower, which of course they'd have to take together. They'd need soap, which always got interesting, which would lead to her on her knees, and then counter sex. Or some variation thereof.

With a sigh of regret she takes her shower solo, then goes to wake him up. After taking only one or two pervy moments to enjoy the view, of course. But the guy, _my guy,_ she reminds herself with an inward smile, is seriously cut. Even his back exudes strength.

Veronica presses down on the bed and leans over him, the movement bringing him instantly awake. She doesn't miss the way his eyes rake her fully-clothed body, and she sees the slight tinge of disappointment there. No, she doesn't miss it, though her eyes spend that same second eyeing his chest, looking for any sign the missing happy trail is growing back.

With a little promise to herself to up his poker skills, she explains, "The only way I'm not going to spend the day obsessing about my dad, is by nailing Gia and Luke to the wall."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: For those waiting on a Haunted update, I am working on it! But I was in a silly mood after a conversation on Tumblr about Jason Dohring's new grooming choices, and this happened. Plus, I was in a mindset for porn. *shrugs* Slap me with a feather.
> 
> A/N: Thank so much to AliLamba and nevertothethird for beta reading this silly little drabble. The respect and care given to my smut indulgence is heartening. You guys seriously rock.


End file.
